


The Prodigal Son Returns (or Alfred's Superpower)

by ArtemiStorm



Series: The Many Nights of Nightwing [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Amnesia, Angst, Bat Family, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Father Figures, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Barbara Gordon, Mentioned Bea, Mentioned Bruce Wayne, Mentioned Damian Wayne, My First Work in This Fandom, One Shot, Prodigal son, Seizure, Traumatic Brain Injury, ric grayson?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 05:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21333076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemiStorm/pseuds/ArtemiStorm
Summary: It hasn't been very long since Richard Grayson got a second chance at life, but already, it has fallen apart. Everything that anchored him during his recovery and new life and Bludhaven was upended by the Court of Owls and the revelations of their lies and manipulation that touched every corner of his life. Now lost somewhere between what's real and what isn't, Richard wanders the world looking for a place to call home.An imagining of how Richard Grayson might rejoin the Bat Family.UPDATE: Holy Canon Prediction Batman! Read Batman (2016) #98. A similar scene to this happens in real canon but between Alfred and Batman.
Series: The Many Nights of Nightwing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955491
Kudos: 67





	The Prodigal Son Returns (or Alfred's Superpower)

**Author's Note:**

> This little piece takes place after the conclusion of the Court of Owls story arc in Nightwing 2016, and the Bane story arc in Batman 2016.

Endless miles of potholed roadway passed beneath the worn treads of the motorcycle Richard Grayson rode. A dozen cities or more flicked past, bright islands in the sea of midnight forests. Richard headed nowhere and anywhere as fast as he could trying to escape the lies he had been believing and living for the past several months. But it didn’t matter how far or how fast he traveled, the confusion, anger, and guilt still shadowed his soul. It’s hard to escape something that is deeply ingrained inside of you.

It had been three days since Richard had broken free from his nutcase great-grandfather’s brainwashing. Refusing to become a Talon for the Court of the Owls, he ended up fighting and defeating his master assassin great-grandfather. But now with the implanted, false memories swirling around in Richard’s head, he was even more confused than when he had first woken up from the coma. What was actually true? Who was he before? Who was he supposed to be now? What should he do? Where should he go? With Bea gone and the other Nightwings taking care of things, he had no ties to Bludhaven. There was no reason to stay, but nowhere to go.

It had been three days since he learned the truth of Doctor Haas, the woman who had been his solid rock during his recovery. She had merely been manipulating him, playing with his mind to turn him into a pawn for the Court of Owls. She had stolen his memories, his past, his identity, and separated him from everyone he loved and everyone who loved him. Now he loathed her for her treachery and himself for his naivete. 

It had been three days since he had thrown away the medication prescribed by Doctor Haas. Who knows what sort of drugs she had been giving him or what they had been doing to him? Maybe if he stopped taking them, his memories would return? It was doubtful, though, the damage had already been done. It had been a long time since the strange dreams and nightmares of “the other life” had subsided. Likely, lost forever.

He knew quitting his meds would have other side effects. Already, he was starting to experience mood swings, depression, and balance issues (he probably shouldn’t have been driving). But he didn’t care. Nothing matters anymore when you have nothing left, when everything has been taken away. Richard didn’t know how much further he could go. He only had enough money for one more tank of gas and maybe a sandwich from a gas station. And then what? Restart? Oblivion?

Whoah.

There was that feeling. That powerful sense of foreboding in his chest, the tingly feeling in his stomach, the taste of metal in his mouth… he knew what was coming. 

A seizure.

Someone behind Richard honked as he braked hard and pulled off the highway onto an unmarked road that ducked into the forest. His heart pounded and he felt like he was floating; he only had a few seconds. His vision faded as he stumbled off the motorcycle. He didn’t even feel the ground when he hit it.

…

“Richard.”

…

“Master Richard.” The voice had a British accent and seemed familiar.

“Are you here with me, Master Richard?” Richard opened his eyes. An old man, illuminated by the motorcycle’s headlight, bent over him with a worried expression.

“Ow... yeah. I’m here.” His entire body ached and his head throbbed. Weakly, he reached his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the light.

“You’ve had a grand mal seizure,” the old man said.

“That explains why I feel like I’ve been run over by a train,” Richard replied trying to sit up. The old man pushed him back down.

“Just relax, you’ve taken quite a shock to your system. You haven’t had a grand mal since…”

“Since I got shot. Or right after. I guess I had a couple, but I don’t really remember. Story of my life.”

“Aren’t you on medication to control the seizures?”

“Yes. I mean I was, but I tossed them because… it’s a long story.” 

“Well?” Alfred motioned for him to continue. Richard propped himself up on one elbow.

“Well, it turned out that my doc—the one Bruce had flown in—was part of this weird secret society called the Court of Owls. She and this other psycho who claimed to be my great-grandpa have been messing with my head and trying to recruit me to be an assassin for them—which I refused, of course—but… stuff happened, and in the end, I gave up the meds that Doctor Haas prescribed, because who knows what she’s been giving me.” 

“The Court of Owls?!” 

“You’ve heard of them?”

“Have you told Master Bruce?”

“No. Why would I? I’m fine now, I just need to…” The old man glared at him as he struggled to sit up.

“Need to do what, may I ask?” Richard sighed and looked away.

“I don’t know, Alfred,” he began, cupping his teacup in hands. “Everything is… gone.” He paused as a wave of lightheadedness passed. 

“I have no memory, no nothing from my past. I tried to move forward, figure out who I was, become a new man, but I just ended up living a twisted lie. Now Bea is… I can’t even say it. Sap and the others… they don’t need me. They’ve got things handled in Bludhaven. Now I… I have nothing left. I don’t even know… what do I do now, Alfred?” Alfred’s eyes glittered dark blue as he half-smiled.

“Go home.”

“Go home? Where? I don’t have a home. I’ve been couch surfing or living in the streets since I left Gotham Hospital.” Alfred gave him a pained expression.

‘The streets?’ His eyes wistfully seemed to ask. But his face turned to one of resolve.

“Son, you always have a home at Wayne Manor.”

“No. I don’t remember it. Nothing good at least.”

“You don’t have to. While you may not remember it, it is still there, waiting for you. It is part of your past, your origin, who you are.”

“I’ve heard stories... I don’t know if I want to go back to all of it—to them. Bruce and the others, they expect me to be Dick Grayson or Nightwing, but I can’t live up to that. I don’t even know if I want to be Ric Grayson. Ric Grayson turned out to just be a pawn for some crazy homicidal bird cult.”

“The others, they're… we’re your family. We all understand what you’ve gone through, and the others, they’ll accept you for whoever you are right now and whoever you choose to be in the future. You don’t have to be Nightwing or Dick or Ric… why not just Richard?”

“That is what my mother always called me." He seemed lost in thought for a minute. "Still… I’m not sure. Its been so long since I got shot, since I left Gotham… six months? Nine months? A year? I don’t even know. Why would they… want me back? Have any interest in me? I’m a stranger now. And they’re strangers to me too.”

“They miss you, Richard. They love you. You’re lost and you’ve been lost for a long time and we all want you to come home. I know you’re still trying to find who you are and your place in the world; I think home might be a good place to start.”

Richard slowly nodded and gazed into the floral teacup in his hand. 

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Then his expression turned quizzical. “Hey, where did this tea come from?” He cautiously took a sip; it was Earl Grey. “Tea. That was your superpower wasn’t it?” Alfred laughed.

“Yes, or so Master Bruce says.”

They were quiet for a while as they sat together on the dim forest road sipping tea and listening to the distant rumble of the highway. After a while, Alfred set his tea down on the saucer and inhaled deeply.

“Master Richard, you should know something.” Richard looked up at him expectantly. Alfred hesitated, pain in his eyes.

“I died some time ago.”

“Oh,” Richards shoulders sagged. “Really? But you’re… then how…?”

“It’s okay, son.” Alfred put his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “It’s not so bad. I don’t have to work, now. I actually have time to pursue my hobbies. Did you know, I’ve always wanted to get into model trains?”

“Model trains?”

“The worst part about this is that I can’t be there for Master Bruce and all of you—your brothers and sisters and allies—in this hard time of mourning.” Richard stared in his tea.

“Of course, I can’t help but wonder, how is the house being kept now that I’m gone? Does anyone there dust the parlor, iron the capes, make tea, or even brush the cow?”

“Brush the cow?”

“You should ask Damian about that. But at any rate, your…”

“Guardian?”

“No, your father, he needs you. Your brothers need you. Not Nightwing, not Dick, but you—” Alfred tapped his chest with his finger “—whoever you are right now.”

“What can I do for them? I can’t help them. I can’t even take care of myself. I thought it would be freeing to not have to deal with the baggage of the past, but instead of feeling free, I feel lost. I try, I try to remember the past, anything! But I just can’t. What if I never get my memory back? What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

“But you have remembered something, son.” Richard looked at him surprised.

“You remembered my superpower.” Richard’s eyes went wide with realization and he grinned. “You’re right! Yes! Yes, I did! There’s hope for me yet!”

“My boy, there is always hope for you.” 

“Aww, thanks, Alfred.”

“Now it is time for both you and me to go.” Alfred stood. He seemed to move backward without stepping and began fading into the darkness.

“No, wait! Where are you going?”

“I have just one more thing for you, son.”

“What?” 

“Live a good life.” Alfred raised his hand in a wave, then disappeared into the forest.

“Don’t go, Alfred! Please, stay!” Richard dropped the teacup as he reached out his hand, spilling Earl Grey into the dust. 

“Alfred!” He cried out one last time as the forest spun and darkness overwhelmed his senses.

…

“Who the heck is Alfred? Kid, are you okay?” 

“Whaaah…?” Richard opened his eyes. He was lying on the gravel road again, this time, a policeman stood over him. 

“I said ‘kid, are you okay?’” 

“Oh! Officer!”

“So, are you high or are you drunk?”

“Uh, neither, sir.” 

“Then what are you doing here on the ground in the middle of nowhere?”

“I, uh… actually sir, I think I just had a seizure.”

“Seriously? Are you sure? Just lay still, there. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No need, officer, I’ve had seizures before. I just… I just need to go home.”

“Waitaminute! If you know you have seizures, what were you doing driving a motorcycle?”

“That’s… a fair question. Well you see, officer, I haven’t had one for a long time and I didn’t expect to have one tonight.” Richard sat up and looked around. The teacups were gone. The ground was dry where he had spilled the tea.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“No… I’m not okay. I need to go home... but I don't think I can drive myself. Do you mind giving me a lift?” The officer shrugged.

“Where do you live?”

“Well uh, there’s this guy called Bruce Wayne, do you know him?”

“Yeah…?”

“He’s like… my father.”

“You’re joking. Hahaha, very funny. Tryin’ to pull a fast one on me. I’m not that dumb.”

“No, seriously. I’m his kid. You know, Richard Grayson, the first boy he adopted?”

“Prove it. Let me see your driver’s license.” Richard clumsily dug through the motorcycle’s saddlebag. He handed the man his wallet.

“Richard J. Grayson, huh?”

“In the flesh.”

“What are you doing so far from Gotham?”

“Uh…”

“Whatever. Just get in the car. I’ll take you to Wayne Manor. It’ll be a long drive, though. I swear, kid, if this is a trick…”

***

Richard stood nervously at the door of Wayne Manor. Should he knock? Ring the doorbell? He did used to live there so maybe it would be okay if he just walked in. But what if he saw anyone or he set off an alarm? Then again, it was three or four in the morning. Why would he see anyone? But should he try to wake someone up and make his presence known or just find a couch to crash on until morning (or until someone discovered him)?

Richard was startled as the door suddenly swung open. A boy, around 12 years old, stood with one hand on the doorknob and the other gripped a katana. And expression of shock passed over his face. He dropped the sword. What was the kid’s name again? Daniel? Donald?

“Grayson! You’re back!” The boy’s name was Damian. That’s who he was. His youngest brother. “You look terrible,” Damian added.

“Yeah. It’s been a night.”

“Who’s there?” Several voices asked.

“It’s Richard!” Damian piped up.

“Dick’s back?!”

“He’s going by Ric, now.”

“You’re here!” A red-haired girl leapt up and hugged him.

“Yeah. Hi, uh, Barbara, was it?” She pulled him inside and Damian closed the door. She led Richard to a living room where six or seven other people sat. He recognized a few of them. It was three or four in the morning. Why were they all still up? Oh yeah. Family of bat-themed vigilantes. Of course they’re awake in the middle of the night. They were probably all plotting how to take over Dracula’s castle. They stopped whatever they were doing and eagerly showered him with questions.

“You’re back!”

“Where have you been?”

“Are you alright?”

“What’s going on?”

“Man! When was the last time you showered and changed clothes?”

“Um…” he began, “hi everyone. I don’t really know any of you, but I’m Richard. If uh, if you don’t mind, I’m looking for a place to crash for the night.”

“Dude, you like don’t even have to ask,” said a guy with a distinct white streak of hair, “you already have a room here.”

“Really? I do?”

“Yeah, man. Alfred’s had it cleaned up and ready for whenever you needed it.” Alfred. Richard smiled sadly. 

“Richard.” A man stood and approached. It was Bruce Wayne. Batman. His guardian.

“Hi, um, pops.” 

Bruce embraced him. Richard awkwardly reciprocated.

“Welcome home.” 

“Thanks…?” Richard looked down at the coffee table and froze. 

There was a teapot, two teacups, and a plate of cookies on a tray. Richard stared at the two teacups. They were the same teacups he and Alfred drank out of on the gravel road.

“Oh, do you want some tea?” Asked Barbara. She poured a cup and handed it to him. 

It was Earl Grey.

Richard smiled. Yeah. There was hope for him yet.


End file.
